Sometime on Saturday morning I had an idea for a post. I think it was something about those minuscule (minuscule for me, anyway) opportunities that suddenly appear and you think to yourself, "I could make something of this." These thoughts have been popping up more frequently in recent days...or months, or years.
But the original opportunity fled, leaving me with only the excerpt from Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb that appears as the post heading, and that song has been rattling around in my head ever since. I did get the guitar out to give it a burl yesterday. I need to look up all the verses again...
Over the weekend various other ways of interpreting the idea or carrying on this post occurred to me but without any means of recording them - I really need one of those little digital MP3 recorders at the ready - they also have been lost.
Much of how I view lost opportunities is, regrettably, bound up in things that I wish I could do but can't, for whatever reason. An example: later on Saturday I played a DVD of Jim Croce in concert. Oh for one scintilleenth of his ability to play, to write, to wring an emotional response from the listener.
But comparing yourself to others - even blogfriends whose writing ability far surpasses one's own - is a fruitlessly destructive exercise. Far better to appreciate others for what they can contribute, and look to one's own contribution.
Even if it's hard to identify.
Now, those readers who know me in real life, for example from work, will be rolling around the floor by this stage. Such soul-bearing, what amount of rubbish will I have to endure when I'm next in Brizvegas?
a short interval occurred at this point while we had dinner, watched the appallingly over-contrived Australian Top Gear and did some worky work
But the original opportunity fled, leaving me with only the excerpt from Pink Floyd's Comfortably Numb that appears as the post heading, and that song has been rattling around in my head ever since. I did get the guitar out to give it a burl yesterday. I need to look up all the verses again...
Over the weekend various other ways of interpreting the idea or carrying on this post occurred to me but without any means of recording them - I really need one of those little digital MP3 recorders at the ready - they also have been lost.
Much of how I view lost opportunities is, regrettably, bound up in things that I wish I could do but can't, for whatever reason. An example: later on Saturday I played a DVD of Jim Croce in concert. Oh for one scintilleenth of his ability to play, to write, to wring an emotional response from the listener.
But comparing yourself to others - even blogfriends whose writing ability far surpasses one's own - is a fruitlessly destructive exercise. Far better to appreciate others for what they can contribute, and look to one's own contribution.
Even if it's hard to identify.
Now, those readers who know me in real life, for example from work, will be rolling around the floor by this stage. Such soul-bearing, what amount of rubbish will I have to endure when I'm next in Brizvegas?
a short interval occurred at this point while we had dinner, watched the appallingly over-contrived Australian Top Gear and did some worky work
so...sometime later
Well I guess this is a post about frustration. The glimpses I, and presumably others, encounter when we see what might be possible if only we were cleverer/more articulate/ wealthier/had more business contacts/were considerably more energetic/diligent/focused.Ah yes, we have looked into the mirror and weren't particularly enamoured with what looked back out at us.
The other thing - there's always another thing, isn't there - is that this post is turning out nowhere near like I had envisaged it at various times. This is presumably related to the aforementioned lack of focus, or possibly lack of the digital micro-recorder, for the recording of micro-thoughts. Lack of focus is bad.
Um. I don't think it does one good to do too much yearning. A little yearning seems necessary to keep mentally active: call it aspirational if you insist. But as long as tempus fugits, we must grasp our opportunities while we may.
I think you know what I mean.
4 comments:
I often wake up with a brilliant post wandering around in my mind, then my mother rings.
oh good luck with all that then.
there is a Shakespeare quote about the ' in the affairs of a man, which if taken at the tide" or something.
or there's that movie 'Sliding Doors'
and as for "looking in the mirror", please visait my place for a view that is scarier than the reflection - the overhead gut-shot' - oh yes indeed scary.
PS and Tues 28th is birthday of Thats So Pants if ya wanna make funny about age-ing at her blog.
mwah mwah
oops - that dumbcluck ann oDyne was logged into the gmail of the a.k.a
exhausted from spending hours pushing a ride-on mower through acres of long spring grass.
When I was a child I had gimping feet.
Word Verification, by amazing coincidence: pedult, an act or instance of making derogatory remarks about someone's feet.
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